Trismegistus
by The Full Neko Alchemist
Summary: Egyptian AU: Some say alchemy originated in Ancient Egypt. One man seeks to understand it.
1. The One Who Waited

**Disclaimer**: GX, Duel Monsters and their respective characters are not mine.

**Note**: This is an AU, with GX and hints of DM, and yes, I'm aware it's in the GX section. Dates and history have been researched. I say thank you to neoarkadia, located on this site for helping me bounce plot bunnies around. If you're wondering what's going on, I'm taking a break from plotting the second draft of my novel to write a fanfiction, this being the opening. Updates may be slow as I am plotting this and a novel, and attempting to write both.

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**01 – The One Who Waited  
**

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Forbidden. Never to be spoken of. Removed. Those were the edicts of the Pharaoh, three measures aimed at stamping out the worship of gods people had been in reverence to for countless years. Identities merged, cults grew, and humanoid figures were replaced by the great solar disc, the creator of the universe, viewable each day in the sky.

Tensions broke under their own weight but were quickly shored as the old religion was re-established. Life went on as normal. The Pharaoh had brought peace and their land would be freed from the shackles of the past and allowed to grow.

Yet, there was a 'but'. The religion of the state was singular, alone. No other gods, practices and traditions had been allowed to escape. Images had been defaced and temples destroyed, carried out by the will of the Pharaoh and his priests, whose successors had a moral duty to enforce the law. Through no fault of their own, the heirs had inherited the problem of old priesthoods who had for too long been out of favour. It was also unpopular with the people, whose comments on the subject were frequent and vivid.

Killed by a brother's ambition, the Pharaoh passed into the Afterlife. A year later, his son was unable to follow and his name was struck from history as if he'd never existed.

The one to follow had been the young Pharaoh's cousin, a forceful man, a trying man, but somebody with the right intentions.

The change could not have come fast enough.

Priests were empowered, cultural centres grew. All seemed well. It was in accordance with the will of the Pharaoh, who had no desire to handle a civil war motivated by the strongest of passions. He had a country to rebuild, an empire to maintain and a future to create. His predecessor slept within a golden tomb, and the man who had caused the chaos had been given a decent burial. He wanted answers; the only way to get them was in the Afterlife. For his father to be there, the body had to be preserved.

Others, however, were not so forgiving. One hid his ambivalence with a smile, whilst another harboured hate for what had gone before. A new kingdom, a new era, a new pharaoh; their aims were simple enough, but they could hardly speak of it in public. Repressed under the old system, the priest had known it was the work of his competitor. The news of Akunadin's death had been received with both joy and anger; he had smiled. Yet, there had been a bitter aftertaste; his rival was dead and beyond his reach. He'd never had the chance to prove he was something more than an irregular crackpot.

The first time he'd noticed Zork's influence was when the skies had darkened, blotting out the sun. Then he'd learnt Akunadin had sold the kingdom to Zork Necrophades for the power to put his son on the throne. Personal motives, filial devotion, love - all three of which could drive any man to a rash, impulsive decision. Had Akunadin grown powerful? Yes. Common? Equally so. He had to laugh. The notion of selling one's soul for power was absurd. The truth behind the world and the universe could be found through one simple yet extraordinary course of action.

But that would be telling.

The two of them had never had a good relationship. Akunadin was too quiet, and he was, well… eccentric was a word he'd heard once or twice, amongst other things. Then there was mutual hatred, one-upmanship - the usual things that came with rivalry. Magical spells and their translation were in the here and now. His art was universal.

Akunadin had made sure he'd kept his religion and practices to himself. He'd waited for so long. Now, Akunadin couldn't hold him back. He would surpass the limits of human knowledge and prove his superiority. He knew what had happened with the old man. He was old, he knew how things worked. One didn't know Akunadin and the occult without learning a few things.

He would not run away, not anymore. He would protect the land he loved and its people. No longer would those who pursued knowledge be forced to cower when some official changed his mind. The likes of Zork could never be seen again – he wouldn't allow it. He'd had enough of living like a fugitive, it was time to act. Knowledge would be his weapon, his creations his shield. The time would come, his items prepared. With his tablet, he'd change the world.


	2. The Missing

**Author's Note:** I thought this fic would remain discontinued, but I had the urge to write for it. I considered using Egyptian names, considering the Egyptian AU theme of this fic, but decided to keep the GX names we know and love; this was due to quick and simple character recognition. It will still be delayed, as I've got other projects. My novel is taking up most of my spare time.

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Keeping himself out of sight, Fubuki moved through the temple courtyard. Each pillar was ringed with symbols; the paving stone stretched from a meter off the walls all across the complex. Hearing footsteps, he kept out of sight. A silver-haired man, his target, passed his hiding place, followed by three ladies so similar they could be sisters. They went to a door opposite. Once they ventured indoors, Fubuki hurried to the rear shrine and, with a quick look back, sneaked inside. He searched the first room on the left. Huddled in the corner were small canopic jars in two rows of four. Another set stood upon the opposite shelf. He inhaled the salty air and frowned; if it wasn't a shrine, what was it? And why the jars?

Fubuki moved to the shelf and lifted the nearest jar. Empty. And so was the next. But something in his stomach told him the ones on the floor were full. He searched for a full five minutes before he was forced to hide from visitors:

"How should I know what you want?" said a boy. "We shouldn't be here. I want to go."

"Go?" said a second. "They're praying, and the priest won't tend the idol till the end of the service. He won't see us. Or are you afraid?"

"Do I look like a coward?"

Catching his breath, Fubuki looked around then ran for the blind spot. The door closed again soon after. The only light came from the bottom crack, where a shadow appeared. He just wanted to get his evidence and get out. He'd let Ryou and Chousaku handle the rest; this was too dangerous.

"Now isn't this a surprise?" said a man's voice. "The sun is high and you're indoors. What reason could you have for such a thing?"

"He made me do it."

"You know this is a sacred area."

"Sorry."

"And I don't want to see you here again."

The first boy mumbled and was ushered through now-open doors. Fubuki could do nothing but remain hidden as he watched the priest usher the children outside, the three being followed by an overweight cat. He chose that time to run, silently to be unheard, and sought to infiltrate the inner sanctum. He did so, for when the priest went inside again, opening the closed door would give away his position.

Fubuki looked round the sanctum, at the repeated columns and shadowed walls, with their depictions of salamanders and coiled serpents and fish, and chose a pillar at the end. It was a good place to hide. The profound dark gave Fubuki a perfect viewpoint, and the column was good cover. He was sure the priest would come here; it was part of his routine. Fubuki had observed him daily, and this room was key. The priest came in and rarely ventured out. His hurried mind concluded that where the priest was, the missing citizens would be.

The priest, according to his superiors, was dangerous.

"Would you like fish today, Pharaoh?" came a voice.

A cat meowed.

"They don't like fish in parts of our land, you know. Let me see what I have when my work is done. I saw a delightful specimen on the market the other day, and removed the bones just for you. You can enjoy it, though that is not always the case, yes?"

"Oh and how many sisters are there?" the priest continued quietly, squatting to stroke Pharaoh along his back. "One, the daughter? Two, the mother and child? Three, the father of alchemy? I'm not a man who needs material wealth. I enjoy my work, you know. I've always sought to understand those who would obstruct it. They deem it unhealthy, against the gods. But what is a god? A single existence who dreams of others? All and one? Is there life beyond the All? It's not fair to be denied enlightenment, is it? People often do the wrong things for the right reasons."

Fubuki didn't like the sound of that. He kept back a dissatisfied sigh and heard pacing, bare feet slapping the stone floor one step after another. He looked round the pillar and took one long look at the wall. It was half-open, and the man was hauling it aside. It was a false door. That was how he disappeared.

He knew that trailing this priest to obtain needed evidence would be to follow him into danger, and wondered whether the old-looking man (which itself was strange, as his voice sounded younger) had arranged it like that for the purpose of flushing him out. It was amazing how at ease he sounded, and yet there he was, looking over his shoulder as if expecting visitors. Living under the thumb of a dynasty made ever more difficult by the history of the current Pharaoh's predecessors, he thought.

_Why does he never leave this place?_

The priest stood eight meters away by the glow of his candlelight, and soon as he'd disappeared into the hidden room, Fubuki was tiptoeing round looking for clues.

He couldn't see what happened next.

With a slight jerk of the head, the cat jumped off the table. A hatchet blade came down after the animal left. It cut the skin, and through flesh, sinew and bone to the board underneath, severing the woman's head from her body. This was not murder, and the priest honestly felt the women knew what they were doing when they came to him with the intention of seeking help. He was renowned for wizardry, but loathed the term. Alchemy was the means of understanding the truth of life. All was the same. And when he saw it, he couldn't resist. A Ka, a united existence of three human beings!

He turned to clean the blade with a rag, tranquil and static and rapt, his red eyes darting time upon time to the cat. Pharaoh gave him a soft meow then turned. Fubuki retreated round the corner with open, worried eyes, hid from Pharaoh, and ran for the door.

Fubuki in his hurried state of mind was unable to fathom how he'd been noticed, and didn't see how the depiction of the salamander stretched its wings. He saw that, nor the shimmering air, only the emerald light that filled the room soon after.


End file.
